24 hour product diaries: A narcissistic trend that has to stop
IT’S the beauty trend that’s somewhere between next level narcissism and just plain disgusting. Jo Stanley takes aim at the diaries fascinating the internet.
NO ONE likes a show off. It’s what my Mum told me ever since I was 6 and insisted on standing up, uninvited, in front of the whole church to sing Jesus Loves Me.
Self-promotion is as distasteful as burping the alphabet in my family, and so it is that I’m somewhere between nauseous and baffled by a latest trend I’ve stumbled across online — the 24 Hour Beauty Product Diary, which is exactly as it sounds.
A story in which someone living a life just like you or I, not even a celebrity or the Queen, lists the products they use on their person in a 24-hour period, generally with an uncomfortably honest dissection of their hygiene habits. It’s next level narcissism, with a dose of eeww thrown in.
Too many cleansers, application anxiety and the perfect black cherry lipstick: Julianne's 24-hour product diary http://t.co/51ns3iPDMT
— Millihelen (@TheMilli) May 5, 2015
Now my base attitude in life is, if it’s right for you — go to town. Hell, go to town in as much bergamot petunia facial mist as you like, and sure, write it down for those who like to live vicariously through someone else’s bathroom cupboard. I even think if I were asked to document my own regimen, I’d probably do it, because I have a problem saying no. I just can’t understand why the publisher of said article would think we’re interested.
For instance, here are the kinds of organic cruelty free insights you can pick up. Peachy (not her real name — I hope!) puts lip balm on before she even gets out of bed in the morning, like, I suppose, a lot of us. Clover has cupboards full of products she doesn’t use, like EVERYONE of us. Paige cleans her teeth with Jasmine Mint Toothpaste, like nobody else on the planet.
Before Nancy gets out of the shower, she sprays ordinary kitchen olive oil on her body, probably because she can’t afford anything else after she’s spent EIGHTY DOLLARS on her shampoo. Anna uses a body-wash that is apparently “pheromone activating”, which just sounds inconvenient to me, given the amount of time I spend on public transport. And my favourite, Rebecca sprays her bed with Lavender and Hops Pillow Potion every night, because Rebecca is a gullible fool.
While I have an urge to shave my own eyeballs after reading even a few of these articles, I must admit I have learned some things from my research into these self-obsessed lives. Firstly, EVERYBODY has a cosmetic line — supermodels, our very own Klims, Miranda Kerr, Bono’s wife. Because who needs a chemistry degree?
Secondly, I feel I’m close to having to hand back my lady membership card because I don’t use coconut oil on every part of my body. Also, subscription boxes are big. Again, these are exactly what they sound like. You subscribe, every month you get a box of product samples, most of which you didn’t even know you needed, now you’ve got so many teeny tiny little bottles in your bathroom you’re starting to think your hands have Gigantism. In contrast, if it doesn’t come in a monster pump pack, it is not for me.
If I sound highly critical, it could be that I’m deeply envious. Partly because these women take 4 pages to get to 8.30am, so it’s clear none of them have to get a kid to school. They are spending a loooooong time looking in the mirror, uninterrupted and sometimes with their own choice of music! I’m lucky to find time to wash the sleep out of my eyes. And partly because I know if I were to languorously list my every product, I’d have to admit I spend way too much for a result that sometimes sees me looking not much better than Nick Nolte in a mugshot.
I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to avoid a Food Diary every time I join a gym, and l feel no different about Product Diaries.
Such self-reflection is as uncomfortable to me as a Downward Facing Dog in Yoga. Instead, I save my navel gazing for more important record-keeping like Whiskers I’ve Plucked and People I’ve Embarrassed Myself In Front Of. That diary started in a church, when I was 6.